Every instinct shouted at him to say no, to turn away before it was too late. Too late for her. Too late for him. Instead, he found himself nodding.
Adrianna closed the door so she could remove the safety chain, then invited him inside with a smile and a wave of her hand.
All too aware that he was making a mistake, he followed her down the corridor that led to her bedroom.
He hadn't paid much attention to the room before. Now, he noticed that the walls were papered with a delicate blue-and-rose print. An antique oak dresser stood across from the bed; an oval mirror hung on the wall. A rag doll sat in a small rocking chair located in one corner. Pale blue curtains hung at the window; a blue carpet covered the floor.
He stood in the doorway, careful to avoid the mirror.
Adrianna ran her hand over the spread. "It looks good, don't you think?"
Navarre nodded. Indeed, the ivory lace spread looked as if it had been made for his bed, this room, this woman.
He clenched his fists at his sides to keep from crossing the floor and taking her in his arms. It would be so easy, he thought, so easy to press her down to the bed that had once been his and satisfy his desire, his hunger, in one swift, fatal embrace.
Adrianna looked up then, her gaze meeting his. The expression glittering in his eyes sent the breath rocketing from her lungs. She was no expert on men, but she knew desire when she saw it, and never had she seen it burning hotter or brighter than in this man's eyes.
Awareness hummed between them, vibrant, palpable, so intense, it was frightening.
She took an involuntary step backward as he pushed away from the doorway and moved toward her. There was a predatory gleam in the depths of Navarre's eyes, a hunger that went beyond desire, a need that transcended the boundaries of time.
With a cry of despair, she shook her head, her foot catching on the bedspread as she recoiled from his touch.
The look in her eyes, so like the look he'd once seen in Katlaina's, cut Navarre to the heart, ravaging his soul as the sun would ravage his body dared he linger in its light too long.
He began to tremble convulsively as he fought to control the hunger raging through him. Never had he wanted a woman as he wanted this woman. Never had the urge to take what he wanted been so strong.
Never before had he truly realized how difficult it was to separate the desires of the flesh from the desire for blood.
"Forgive me," he rasped, and fled the room as if pursued by the devil himself.
Outside, he took a deep breath, willing his hands to stop shaking, his heart to stop pounding. Foolish heart, to be so easily swayed by the fear in a woman's eyes.
At home, he stood at the attic window and stared out into the darkness.
"Vampire." He spoke the word aloud, as if to remind himself of who and what he was.
Vampire. A solitary, soulless creature who hunted the night.
Vampire. An inhuman monster who lived off the blood of others, who dared not befriend humans for fear that desire would turn to blood lust, that a kiss of affection might be a prelude to sudden death.
Vampire. A ghoul who was not welcome in the world of humanity or among his own kind. Territorial creatures, those of the undead, jealous of their hunting grounds, secretive in their ways, zealous in the protection of their lairs.
"Vampire!"
Never had he loathed the word, loathed what he was, as he did at that moment.
Never before had the gulf between himself and the rest of the world seemed so wide, or so deep, or so impossible to cross.
Adrianna wandered through her house, bemused by what had happened between herself and Navarre. In spite of what he'd said, she didn't believe for a minute that he had come knocking at her door to ask if she was happy with the bed! So why had he shown up at her door so late at night?
She shied away from the answer that immediately came to mind, yet she could not forget the desire she had seen blazing in his eyes, could not forget the tension that had hummed between them like an electrical current.
She wondered what would have happened if she hadn't backed away, if he had pulled her into his arms, tipped her face up to his, and kissed her. Would she have protested, or would she have melted in his arms like butter left too long in the sun?
Going into the bedroom, she changed into her nightgown, brushed her teeth, then settled herself in bed to read for a few minutes.
But she couldn't concentrate on the story. Something kept niggling at her mind, something about Navarre…
She stared at her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall across from the bed, and then it hit her. When he had crossed the room toward her, he had passed in front of the mirror. She had seen her face, the fear in her own eyes, but Navarre had cast no reflection in the glass.
"I must be hallucinating," she muttered, and picked up her book, determined to put it out of her mind. It had been nothing more than her mind playing tricks on her because she'd been so upset.
But that night her dreams were again filled with shadows, and lurking deep in the shadows was a tall dark man with hair as black as ink and gray eyes that burned into her heart and soul, leaving her aching and empty and yearning for something she dared not name. A man whose voice penetrated every fiber of her being, calling to her from the depths of sadness, wordlessly pleading for comfort and acceptance.
She woke with the dawn, her eyes wet with tears.
Chapter Five
Adrianna frowned, then shook her head. "I don't think so, Nancy, not tonight."
"Come on, Addie, I'd go with you."
"But I don't want to go."
"Why not?"
Why, indeed, Adrianna mused ruefully. At the moment, the last thing she wanted was to see Navarre again. "I don't think Cliff House is open on Sunday," she fibbed.
"Of course it is. Come on, it'll be fun. Russ is out of town, and we can go to dinner after."
Adrianna sighed, wondering how she could wriggle out of this without hurting her best friend's feelings.
"Pick you up in ten minutes," Nancy said, and hung up the phone before Adrianna could object.
The prospect of seeing Navarre made Adrianna as nervous as a cat as Nancy drove out of town toward Old Piney Branch Road. How could she face him again after last night?
"You're awfully quiet this evening," Nancy remarked. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm just tired. I spent the day working in my garden." Adrianna glanced over at her friend. She'd known Nancy Kendrick since first grade. Nancy was a pretty girl, with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a winsome smile. Once, they'd been almost inseparable, but then Nancy had married Russ and even though they'd remained close friends, they didn't get together as often as they once had.
Too soon, Nancy was pulling into the driveway at the end of Old Piney Branch Road.
Adrianna stared at the old house for a long moment, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car.
"He sure keeps weird hours," Nancy remarked as they climbed the porch stairs. "I don't know how he expects to make any money when he's only open three hours a day."
"Maybe he doesn't need the money," Adrianna remarked flippantly. "Maybe the antique business is just a hobby."
"Yeah, right." Nancy stared at the door. "Do we knock, or just walk in?"
Adrianna shrugged. "Just go on in, I guess," she suggested, hoping she could get in and out without seeing Navarre.
For a time, Adrianna and Nancy wandered together from room to room, admiring a display of Louis XV furniture, grimacing at an old voodoo death mask, laughing as they tried to imagine churning butter in an old wooden crock, but then Nancy went upstairs to check out the bedroom furniture, leaving Adrianna in the dining room trying to decide if she wanted to spend a hundred dollars on an old English plant stand.
Even though her back was to the door, she knew the exact moment he entered the room. Every nerve ending in her body tingled with his presence, every fiber of her being was acutely, achingly, aware of him.
"Adrianna." His voice, soft and low, speaking her name, just her name, and yet she heard so much more.
Slowly, she turned around to face him. Awareness stretched between them, thick with need.
Adrianna swallowed hard, afraid of the emotions his mere presence aroused in her, afraid of the restless yearning she read in his eyes.
Navarre took a step toward her, waiting for her to back away. When she didn't, he took another step, and another, until he was almost close enough to touch her. He curled his hands into tight fists to keep from doing just that, afraid that if he dared touch her just once, he would never let her go.
For a moment, they gazed into each other's eyes, and then Navarre let out a deep sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul.
"Adrianna," he murmured. "What are we going to do?"
She didn't pretend she didn't understand, didn't make any of the dozens of coy gestures so common to women. She just stood there, her gaze locked to his, and then shook her head. "I don't know. What do you want to do?"
Heat flared in the depths of his eyes. "I want to make love to you."
She wasn't shocked or even surprised by his answer. Still, his bold reply brought a quick blush to her cheeks. It was what she wanted, too, though she couldn't admit it. Not to him. Not even to herself.
But Navarre heard the quickening of her breath, saw the wanting in her eyes.
He whispered her name as he moved toward her, needing to hold her, to feel her warmth, to taste her sweetness.
The sudden wariness in her eyes halted him in mid-stride. She wanted him, he thought bitterly, but she was still afraid of him.
"I won't hurt you," he vowed, praying that it was a promise he could keep. "Please don't be afraid of me."
"I'm not."
It was a lie, and they both knew it.
"Addie, where are you?"
Nancy's voice cut through the tension between them.
"In here," Adrianna called.
Navarre swore under his breath as a dark-haired young woman entered the dining room.
"Oh, there you are," Nancy said. She glanced at Adrianna's flushed cheeks, then looked at the man standing nearby.
Adrianna forced a smile. "Nancy, this is Mr. Navarre. He owns the shop. Mr. Navarre, this is my friend, Nancy Kendrick."
"Charmed, madam," Navarre said, inclining his head in Nancy's direction. "Welcome to my house."
"Thank you. Did you find anything, Addie?"
"No."
"Me, either. At least, nothing I can afford." She smiled apologetically at Navarre, then looked at Adrianna again. "Are you ready to go?"
Adrianna nodded. As much as she had dreaded coming here, now she found herself hating to leave. "Yes, I guess so."
Navarre stepped forward and took Adrianna's hand in his. "I hope you'll come again, Miss Grant."
"I will, thank you."
"And you, too, Ms. Kendrick." He smiled at Nancy, but he didn't release his hold on Adrianna.
"Thank you, Mr. Navarre." Nancy stared pointedly at his hand, which was still clasping Adrianna's. "Addie, are you ready?''
"Yes."
Adrianna was keenly aware of Navarre's gaze on her back as she followed Nancy out of the room.
"Well!" Nancy exclaimed as soon as they were in the car, "what was that all about?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know darn well what I mean! What's going on between you two?"
"Nothing."
"It looked like something to me. He couldn't keep his eyes, or his hands, off you."
"Don't be silly."
"Silly! There was so much tension in that room you could see it."
"Nancy…"
"Addie!"
"For goodness sakes, I just met the man. There's nothing going on."
"There will be," Nancy predicted. "There will be."
Adrianna sank onto the sofa, a cup of hot chocolate cradled in her hands. Dinner with Nancy had been fun, once she got her friend off the subject of Navarre. But then, Nancy was always fun, always able to see the bright side of life, always able to find humor in the grimmest of situations. Her cheerful nature had made her one of the most popular girls in high school. Adrianna had always envied Nancy her easy way with people, her ability to see things as they really were.
They had lingered over coffee, talking about Russ, about the new mall being built at the other end of town, reminiscing about high school. It had been after ten when Nancy brought her home.
A sigh escaped Adrianna's lips as she thought of Navarre, his gray eyes intent upon her face, his voice soft and husky as he whispered that he wanted to make love to her. It was what she wanted, too, and yet she couldn't help being afraid of what it would mean, of the changes it would make in her life.
She set her cup aside, wondering if she was ready to deal with all the implications of surrendering her virginity to Navarre. Though he appeared to be only a few years older than she, there was an air of sophistication and experience about him that made him seem much older. No doubt he'd known many women, while her experience with men was limited to heavy petting sessions in the back seat of her old boyfriend's car, and one brief encounter that had, fortunately, ended before any damage had been done.
Navarre. She closed her eyes, wondering what it would be like to let him make love to her…
A knock at the door roused her from the edge of sleep. Yawning, she went to the door. "Who is it?"
"Navarre."
Her heart did a somersault at the sound of his voice. With hands that shook, she released the security chain and unlocked the door.
Taking a deep breath, she ran a hand through her hair and opened the door. And he was there, filling her vision, a tall, dark man dressed in a white T shirt and jeans.
"Navarre." His name whispered past her lips. His gaze moved over her. She'd been asleep, he thought. Her hair, slightly mussed, fell over her shoulders. "May I come in?"
"I don't know. It's late…" She lifted her hand, then let it fall. "Sure, come on in."
She stepped back so he could enter the house, then closed and locked the door behind him, only to stand there, uncertain what to do next.
He solved the problem for her by taking her into his arms. It occurred to her that she should protest, that she should be insulted, annoyed, angry. Instead, she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.
"I had to see you," he murmured. "I tried to stay away. I told myself you were too young, too innocent, that I had no right to want you." His hand stroked her hair, then slid down her cheek. "Tell me it's all right for me to be here, Adrianna. Tell me you don't want me to go."
"I don't want you to go."
She felt a shudder pass through his body as his arms tightened around her.
"I need you, Annie," he said, his voice low and husky.
"Navarre…"
"Shhh, it's all right. Just let me hold you a moment more, and then I'll go."
She didn't understand the urgency in his voice, the sadness, the distant echo of loneliness. But he needed her. She could understand that, and she stood in his arms, content to be there, with her face pressed to his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart.
Time lost all meaning. An hour might have passed. An eternity might have passed.
"I'd better go," he said, his breath tickling her cheek. "It's late."
But still he didn't release her. Her nearness was intoxicating, her warmth mesmerizing. He'd made it a point to feed before coming to her house and now, for these few moments, he could be near her without being afraid. It felt so good to hold her as an ordinary man might hold a woman, to stroke the softness of her hair and skin, to press kisses along the slender curve of her throat without fearing that the blood hunger would overcome him.
Gently, he tipped her face to his and kissed her. And she melted in his arms, her body meshing with his, her breasts warm and soft against his chest. Her arms slid up around his neck, and she drew him closer, moaning softly as hi
s tongue slid over her bottom lip.
"Navarre…"
"I know," he murmured. "I feel it, too."
He kissed her once more, and then, with regret, he let her go.
She gazed up at him, her expression slightly dazed, her lips parted. She was so beautiful, he thought, so innocent. He had no right to interfere in her life. And yet, even knowing it was wrong, he couldn't stay away.
"I'd better go before this gets out of hand."
Adrianna nodded. She didn't want him to leave, not yet, but he was right. Another minute in his arms and she'd be inviting him to her bed. And she wasn't ready for that, not yet.
He kissed her once more, and then he was gone.
There were no bad dreams that night.
Chapter Six
In the morning, she woke with a smile on her face, a sense of well-being flooding her soul.
"Navarre. Navarre. Navarre!"
She giggled out loud. Never in all her life had she felt like this. No schoolgirl crush had ever had her dancing around the house, laughing for no reason at all while she got dressed.
She was too excited to eat, so she settled for a quick cup of coffee, brushed her teeth, and went to work two hours early to stock the shelves.
She sang in the car, she sang while she opened cartons and placed the new romance novels on display on the rack in the front of the store. There was a definite trend toward paranormal romances these days, she mused as she read the titles. Ordinary heroes had been replaced by ghosts and werewolves, aliens and vampires…
She shook her head, and then frowned.
Vampires.
Navarre had cast no reflection in her mirror.
With a shake of her head, she put the thought from her.
A moment later, she was driving toward Cliff House.
She sat in the car, her fingers curled over the steering wheel, staring at the old house. She'd never realized how spooky the old place really was.
Resolutely, she stepped out of the car, telling herself there was nothing to be afraid of. She didn't believe in vampires. And even if such loathsome creatures did exist, everyone knew they slept in their coffins during the day.
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